A toast

I'm blipping this painting by Henri Fantin-Latour (a favorite long in the public domain) to mark what would have been my mother's 100th birthday.  Since her birthday was yesterday, on Flower Friday, this seemed like an appropriate image.  I miss her very much and celebrate her life.

Today was my volunteer day, and it was a difficult one.  First I was asked to work with a Chinese man who spoke no English at all, and who was at the most basic level in learning the English letters and their pronunciation.  We both struggled mightily, but I don't think much was accomplished.  He usually works with a young woman who speaks Mandarin fluently, but she was not there today.  I won't be working with him again.  

My other student was a woman who has been homeless for fifteen years, an army veteran who served in Desert Storm and Desert Shield, suffered from PTSD and Gulf War Syndrome, and receives no help from the VA. (The Army does not recognize Gulf War Syndrome as a real medical condition, so she can't be treated.)  She lost her last job because her health problems got so severe that she missed too many work days.  I don't know how anyone survives that kind of upheaval and still functions.  She is hoping to get herself together enough to find a part-time job, and wants to work on math, particularly word problems.  So that's what we did today, and she kept on working after our time was up.  I want to find a better book for us to work with if we work together again.

At a time when I'm so distressed by the ghastly mess our political system is in, it was particularly hard to deal with someone who has fallen through what social safety nets we do have in place.  She lives in a women's shelter now, but doesn't know how long she can stay.  And I went home to my apartment and my cat in my car.